


Wind Down

by perniciousLizard



Series: The Spark [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Pacifist Route, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousLizard/pseuds/perniciousLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton and Sans both happen to be guests at the same wedding.  Sans hates wearing shoes.  Mettaton wants to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a post-pacifist au idea where Papyrus gets a job working for Mettaton and Sans also works for him to keep an eye socket on Papyrus. Mettaton and Sans slowly become friends.

Sans kept his feet propped up on the seat next to him.  He’d worn shoes for the occasion and his dogs were _howling._ He could probably skip out any time, not like he and BP were best buds, but he still had most of his champagne left from the toast and a whole plate full of mini ‘dogs.  He’d get to watch a lot of dancing before he polished the last of _them_ off.  

The kids were having a good time, anyway.  Drinking too much, pairing off, crying because maybe they’d never get to have their friends throw up in the rec hall bathroom at their wedding reception. Papyrus was off with them, dancing very intensely with his date.  

Sans wasn’t that surprised to see Mettaton rolling around, classing up the joint in a pair of enormous sunglasses over his blocky rectangular body, approximately where his eyes would be.  He had on a suit that probably cost as much as the whole wedding.  

The song switched to something with a little less romance and a little more energy, and Sans watched Mettaton cut in to catch a dance with Papyrus.  He shoved Paps’ date right out of the way, getting to the heart of the whole “cutting in” concept.  

Mettaton moved on to his next victim—the groom himself.  Sans finished off his champagne, but he thought he would stick around until Papyrus was ready to head home.  

The happy couple left eventually, and Sans was still around.  He had settled into his chair, and he had a brand new glass of cheap wine. He’d tracked down where they were hiding the condiments, so he was as content as he could be in a suit.  

Mettaton rolled towards Sans’ table and pulled back a chair so he could stand in front of it.  

“hey,” Sans said.  He’d been expecting MTT to stop by at some point.  

“HELLO. ARE YOU PLANNING ON SPENDING YOUR WHOLE TIME AT THE PARTY SITTING HERE LIKE A LUMP, DARLING?”  Mettaton poked at the cocktail weenies taking up most of Sans’ plate.  

“yep.” Sans held out one of the 'dogs by the toothpick.  Mettaton took it, but didn’t seem to know what to do with it.  “saw you _charging_ around.“

"THIS WEDDING WOULD NOT HAVE HALF ITS SPARK WITHOUT ME.”  

“all those sparks what you need the glasses for?”  

“AREN’T THEY NICE?  I CAN TELL YOU’RE JEALOUS.” He paused, tapping the weenie against the table.  "…THEY ARE VERY *CURRENT.*"

"you got me.”  He chuckled, a little.  

Mettaton leaned in, considering him.  "YOU’RE PRESENTABLE.  DANCE WITH ME.  YOU NEED TO GO OUT ON THE DANCE FLOOR AT LEAST ONCE, DARLING.“

"nah.”

“I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED *RESISTENCE.*”

Mettaton was bringing out the big guns tonight: electricity puns.  

“I AM *WIRED,* DARLING. I NEED A NICE SEDATE SONG TO CALM ME DOWN.”  

“ok, this isn’t fair,” Sans said.  "let’s _switch_ subjects." 

"YOU DON’T HAVE TO KNOW HOW TO DANCE.  YOU JUST HAVE TO LET ME LEAD.”

“not my thing.  ask my bro.”  

“OH, BUT HE’LL JUST *WIND ME UP,* DARLING.”

“nah.”

“OH, FINE.”  

“i got a joke for you, though.”  

“WELL.  GET IT OVER WITH.”  

“what do robots drink out of?”

Mettaton flashed a question mark.  

“a robottle.”  Sans chuckled.  

“OH. HA.  HA.  HA.  FANTASTIC.”  

“knew you’d love it,” Sans said.  He winked.  

“I COULD STAND TO HIT THE ROBOTTLE.  AFTER HEARING THAT JOKE.”  

Sans laughed.  Mettaton was a pretty fun guy. After a minute, he left to find another dance partner, which Sans also appreciated.  

Papyrus was having a pretty good time with his friends and Sans was getting tired.  He could get more to drink, but he’d have to get up to get it, and he might as well just use the same energy to go home.  He stood up and tossed the jacket he’d given up on over his shoulder. His tie was a loose noose around his neck.  He’d kept himself together for pretty long, but now he was just disintegrating into a mess.  

He waved at Papyrus and then faked a dramatic yawn to let him know why he was headed out.  He wasn’t the only one who had enough for the night.  Mettaton and Shyren’s agent were by the exit, chatting.  

Mettaton waved when Sans did, and said, “OH.  I ASSUMED YOU WOULD BE STAYING AS LONG AS YOUR BROTHER.”  

“nah.”

The agent headed out and Sans walked Mettaton to his limo.  "alphys give you a timeline yet?“

Mettaton sighed, loud.  "NO.  BUT SHE CAN TAKE HER TIME AND MAKE SURE THERE ARE NOT ANY SIMILAR CATASTROPHIC ERRORS.  SHE IS COMPLETELY REDESIGNING A PART, APPARENTLY.”  

Sounded like it would be a little while before anyone got a look at Ex’s legs again.  Sans was a little surprised the whole world hadn’t gotten a little grayer, and that the sun still came up in the morning, the way some people talked about the robo-legs.  

“sorry, buddy, that’s gotta be rough.”  

“WELL.  IT IS NOT LIKE THIS FORM ISN’T ALSO BEAUTIFUL.”

“that’s the spirit.”  

Mettaton leaned back against his car, noodle arms crossed over his chest.  "I WOULD OFFER YOU A RIDE, BUT IT IS NOT LIKE YOU NEED ONE."

"you got like a fridge in the back of that limo?” Sans asked.  

“YES.”

“maybe i’m too tired to take a shortcut right now.”

“YES. YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED, DARLING.  AFTER WEARING REAL SHOES FOR SEVERAL HOURS.”  

“right.”

The driver jumped out of the limo and opened the door for Sans and Mettaton.  She tipped her hat at them and then winked at Sans.  He winked back, glad she could tell what a great nap he was planning on having in the back of Mettaton’s limo.  Her wink obviously meant she was going to be careful to not drive over any huge potholes.  

Mettaton watched the entire exchange, but made no comment.  He settled his huge metal frame inside the limo.  Sans sat next to him and went right for the mini-fridge.  

He had learned, during the years when he had worked for Mettaton, to tell when the guy was just looking for company.  If Sans hadn’t come along when he did, he probably would’ve driven Shyren’s agent home.  Mettaton had been in a sour mood the last few weeks, and Sans couldn’t exactly blame him.  Having one of your internal parts go out and almost take you with it could get anyone down.  

Lucky for Sans, being nice to Mettaton always meant free food.  He noticed a bottle of pink, bubbly, MTT-Brand wine cooler and took it out. Mettaton opened a cabinet and got them both glasses.  

“WELL,” Mettaton said.  "CHEERS, THEN.  THIS ONE IS FOR MY OTHER OLD EMPLOYEE.“

Sans tapped glasses with him.  "he looked happy.  hope it lasts.”

Mettaton swirled his drink around in his glass.  

“you know the story, there?  bet it was engaging.”

“HA. HA.”  He told Sans about it, anyway.  It wasn’t a quick drive back to Sans and Papyrus’ house.  

Sans finished off his glass and then nodded off.  He was nudged awake an hour later.  His pillow was hard and metal.

“WELL. THAT WAS VERY ROMANTIC, DARLING, EXCEPT FOR ALL THE DROOL AND SNORING.”  

“hey, take me as i am, babe,” Sans mumbled.  The last time he’d fallen asleep on Mettaton, it had been his EX form, which was a little more comfortable.  Not as many sharp edges.  But Sans could sleep pretty much anywhere, in any situation.  "we here already?“

"ALREADY?  NOW I WISH I HAD SHUT MYSELF OFF AND MISSED THE TRAFFIC.”  

“yep. hey, mtt, i bet all your naps count as _power_ naps.”  

“YOU’RE ADORABLE, DARLING.”  He sighed.  "IT IS A SHAME YOU WOULDN’T GIVE ME EVEN ONE LITTLE DANCE.“  

"sorry, pal.”  He shrugged.  "phalanges were killing me in these.“ He lifted one of his feet, showing off his shoes.

"IT’S FINE.  I GUESS THIS MEANS MY ATTEMPT.  WAS 'DE-FEETED.’”  

Sans laughed for a while, at that one.  Mettaton watched him, the yellow and red lights on his face organized in a way that made him look amused.  

“all right.”  Sans slapped himself on the leg and opened the limo door, climbing out.  His house looked dark and empty.  Papyrus was probably heading back, but if he left later and got stuck in traffic, he wouldn’t need his bedtime story for a while.  

Sans turned back and stuck his head in the door.  "hey.  if you still want one–" he jerked his thumb towards the house.  "c'mon in.”

“OH.  DON’T DO ME ANY FAVORS.”  Mettaton was already getting out of the car.  

The driver rolled down the window enough to give Sans a thumbs up.  Sans returned it.  Obviously the driver realized Sans was finally going to get to change out of his shoes and was happy for him.  He hoped she got to finish up her day and change into more comfortable shoes soon, too.  

Sans unlocked the door and immediately dumped his suit jacket and the shoes on the floor right next to the entryway.  His regular coat was already there, looking worn in and comfortable, but he let it be for the moment.  He could hear the rhythmic _tha-THUNK tha-THUNK_ behind him as Mettaton rolled up the stairs to the front porch and one gentler  _thunk_ over the threshold and into the house.  

Mettaton knew the place pretty well, what with all the hang-outs he and Papyrus had gone on when Papyrus started out working for him.  He wasn’t over as much, anymore, their friendship stat apparently holding at its maximum level, but he still moved around the place like it was familiar.  

“bro’s got your entire discography in his bedroom,” Sans said, waving at the door to Papyrus’ room.

“OH.  YOU WERE SERIOUS.  WHAT DO YOU LISTEN TO, SWEETHEART.  LET ME PICK ONE OF YOUR SONGS.”  

“eh.” Sans got out his phone and found where he kept some music.  He tossed it over and Mettaton caught it.

He rolled back and forth across the living room, scrolling through his options.  "TROMBONE SOLOS AND…KAZOO REMIXES.  WONDERFUL TASTE, DARLING.  EXACTLY WHAT I WOULD EXPECT TO FIND FROM SOMEONE WHO WORKED IN THE MUSIC INDUSTRY FOR FIVE YEARS."  He was frowning.  "WHY DO YOU HAVE THE ENTIRE ALBUM OF A COMEDIAN WHOSE ACT IS DESTROYING FRUIT ON STAGE?”  

“hey.  some of those kazoo songs are pretty romantic.”  

Mettaton glanced at Papyrus’ door, longingly, and then tossed the phone back. “I WILL PICK THE SONG, AND YOU WILL LIKE IT.”  

“ok.  got it.”  

Mettaton was still for a minute, and then a slow ballad started playing out of his speakers.  When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from the same place, like he was part of the recording.  

He rolled over to Sans.

“uh.” Sans held out his hands, not exactly sure where to put them.  

Mettaton sighed and took over.  He grabbed Sans’ hands and settled them around the middle of his rectangular frame.  "DARLING, JUST LET ME LEAD."

"ok. you’ve got more _lead_ in you, anyway,” Sans said.  

“UGH.”  He pulled Sans in a little closer, and rested one of his hands on Sans’ spine.  "YOU JUST DON’T WANT TO MAKE THE EFFORT.“

"you got me.”  

The music playing through Mettaton’s speakers was kind of cheesy and terrible, but the lyrics crossed a line from romantic into hilariously over the top, so Sans liked it okay.  Mettaton’s metal shell was more than slightly warm, but not hot enough to bother even someone who had skin.  Sans shuffled along as Mettaton very slowly directed them around the living room.  

Sans yawned.

“A LITTLE TOO MUCH WINE, DARLING?”

“no kidding.”  

“IF YOU FALL ASLEEP RIGHT NOW, I AM FINISHING THE SONG, ANYWAY, EVEN IF I HAVE TO CARRY YOU.”

“ok. sounds good.”  

Mettaton laughed.  Sans noticed that he buzzed all over when he spoke.  

It wasn’t a long song.  Mettaton dipped him at the end, which made Sans laugh, too.  

“I WOULD CAP IT OFF WITH A SMOOCH, BUT THERE IS A TRAGIC DEFICIT OF LIPS IN THIS ROOM.”  Mettaton posed, arm against his forehead, the picture of despair.  "OURS WILL HAVE TO BE A TRAGIC LOVE STORY TONIGHT, DARLING."  

"how about a hug.”  They had enough arms, Sans figured.  

“WELL, OKAY.”  

Sans’ face was briefly smashed against yellow and red lights.  "thanks," he said, muffled.  He taped a note to Mettaton’s back.  

"ANY TIME.”  

Sans walked him to the door.


End file.
